I didn’t get a chance to finish. With a quick, jerky motion, he vaulted off the bed, and the atmosphere in the room turned arctic.
He stood, his gaze turning icy as it swept over me. “So you just came back for a fuck.”
I recoiled, pulling a pillow to my chest as he speedily yanked his jeans back on and then bent to retrieve my outfit from the floor. “Don’t sweat it, Claude. I don’t mind getting laid. Breaks up the day.”
If his crude comments hadn’t completed my humiliation, my clothes landing on me in a crumbled ball did. He knew what he was doing—zinging me with words that were certain to hurt me and treating me like a casual lover. It hurt, but I wasn’t prepared for the next cutting remark.
He stalked to the doorway, turned back, and said, “You’ve wasted enough of my time. Now get the fuck out.”
Numb and crying soundlessly, I dressed and scurried from the house.
Chapter 26 • Toby
The unmistakable and annoying crinkle of a garbage bag rustled near my head. I opened one gritty eye then the other. Ray hovered over me holding a large black trash bag.
“Rough night?”
“Why you ask?” I sat up and grimaced as my back protested the movement.
“That floor don’t l-look comfortable,” he said. “This mess have something to do with her?”
All around me were piles of debris.
Ray started picking up waste and putting it in the trash bag, not waiting for me to reply. He already knew the answer.
I hadn’t waited for Claudia to leave. Without pausing to hear the door shut behind her, I submerged into the demolition of the bathroom, ripping sheetrock from the walls and tearing the old stick-tile covered plywood floor apart with my bare hands until I’d collapsed. I’d gutted the room. My back ached; angry swollen scratches covered my hands, proof of my labor. I’d slept sitting up against a rotting two-four.
My whole body felt like a waterlogged corpse. Fresh aches fermented, making themselves known, but all of them were unmatched by the agony of knowing what I’d lost.
“I always thought the walls in here looked o-okay. Never thought about what happens behind them,” he said, continuing his task. “It’s good that you tore them down. Now you can fix the stuff underneath. Rebuild everything, make it new again.”
I closed my eyes. “It’s one ugly mess.”
“It just looks like that now. Ain’t got much else to do. I’ll help you. Come on.” Ray tapped my shoulder and offered me a hand up. “I’ll make us some coffee, and then we’ll get started.”
“What you resist persists,” Abe Bernbaum prattled in my ear over the phone. It was Sunday. A whole week had gone by since Claudia had returned the ring. Thanks to Ray, an unexpected motivator, I’d gotten through the week.
“You resist coming over to install the shelves in that closet like you promised, and I persist being a pain in your backside,” Abe said.
I’d worked for Abe in his appliance store in town for a short time when I’d first come back to Long Island. Neither of us had particularly liked the other at first, but over the last two years, I guess you could say Abe had taken me under his wing. I wasn’t sure why he did; he owed me nothing. Maybe it’d been Julia’s death that softened the starch in the old man, but he looked out for me in a way no one had before.
He and his wife Nora had commissioned me to install a custom closet for them, and I had, nearly two months ago. Well, I’d finished most of it, but I’d been too busy with the derailment of my life to finish the interior shelving. Abe, as usual, was an unyielding taskmaster. In his no fuss way, he never let me slide without making it known that I was in the process of fucking up—an extremely effective tactic that usually goaded me into action.
“All right already. I’ll swing by soon,” I told him.
“When?”
I’d been sleeping when he called. It was too early for this conversation. I was about to say next Saturday, but then I remembered my band was performing. I didn’t even feel like playing, but we were still under contract. Fortunately, it was almost over, only a few more months, and Pace could kiss my ass.
“Today. I’ll be over in an hour.” I dropped the phone on the pillow. I boosted myself out of bed and got dressed. Better to be busy than home, alone in my head.
Toolbox in hand, I went the Bernbaum’s as promised. Nora fussed over me, concerned because I looked tired, and made me a sandwich. I was measuring the inside of the closet when my cell rang. Up popped Claudia’s bikini body on my screen. A miniscule spark of hope surged to life.
“Yeah,” I answered, concealing any hint of interest.
“Toby, it’s Heidi … Chiametti.” She was the last person I expected to hear from, but when she said, “It’s Claudia,” fear overrode everything.
I dropped my pencil and stood. “Is she okay?”
“She isn’t feeling well,” she said. “Well, it’s more than that. She hasn’t gotten out of bed for the last few days. I’ve never seen her like this. I’m supposed to fly out tonight, and I’m out of my head worrying about leaving her like this.”
“Then don’t leave,” I said.
There was a long pause on the other end. “If my job weren’t on the line, I would stay longer.”
I rubbed my left temple with my free hand. She needed something. “What do you want?”
“I want you to come over and see her,” she said.
I almost laughed. “I’m the last person she wants to see.”
“You have a way with her. She responds to you,” she said. “I'd really appreciate if you could come over today and maybe take a walk with her.”
I didn’t answer.
“Just a short walk. It won’t take much time,” she cajoled.
“We’ll see.” I refused to make any promises. I tossed my phone aside and hung my head. I thought the first time Claudia had broken it off with me was hard. This was so much harder. We were a part of each other’s lives. It wasn’t easy to draw a line and say no more.
After a stupid mismeasurement that led me to cut a piece of molding too short, I snapped the piece in half, ready to start throwing things.
Abe wandered in, carrying a teacup and saucer like an old lady. “Problems, young Mr. Faye?”
I lowered my hammer and leaned heavily against the closet frame.
“How do you know when it’s time to give up and let something go?” I asked.
He looked at me from behind his wire-framed glasses, took a sip of his tea, and swallowed before he finally responded. “When it can’t be fixed or no longer serves its purpose.”
There was a Bernbaum family photo on the fireplace mantel, Abe, Nora, and their three daughters. His eldest daughter looked like Abe. Abe’s face was fine on him, but it wasn’t exactly attractive on a woman. There was no doubt in my mind that Claudia and I would have had a beautiful girl, a smart blue-eyed, freckled beauty like her mother.
She could still have that kid, but it’d be with someone else. We couldn’t be fixed. I no longer served a purpose in her life. Time to move on.
“I need money,” I said.
“Strange, I don’t remember you ever mentioning a financial problem.”
“It’s not a problem. It’s an investment opportunity—an insider tip on a hot rental property. It’s a steal, but it’s still mucho dinero. My credit history is non-existent. Banks say I’m high risk.”
“When you’re done here, we can talk. I might be able to help with that,” he said. “How’s Claudia? Nora’s been after me to invite the two of you to dinner.”
“We broke up,” I said.
“I’m very sorry to hear that.” Abe’s expression softened.
“She’s not who I thought she was,” I said with a sigh. “Since the day I met her, she’s been all about school and a career. But as soon we tried to move forward, she went all conventional on me. And she won’t budge. Wants a church wedding—a traditional marriage with kids, probably even a picket fence and the whole nine yards.” I
lowered my eyes. “You know how my family was. We were the polar opposite of the Chiametti family. I don’t know how to do that stuff.”
Trouble at school and with the law, yelling matches on the holidays, drinking benders that ended in fistfights, and Julia’s tears. Lots and lots of tears. Those were my family traditions.
Abe said nothing, because like practically everyone in our small town, he knew the truth about my family.
“And kids, they’re a deal breaker. Parenthood is not in my future.” I nudged a piece of scrap wood on the floor with the toe of my work boot.
Abe put his teacup down. “Parenting can be a daunting responsibility, indeed. One has to learn to be selfless, to meet the needs of their young, but in that selflessness, there is profound joy.”
I sensed Abe winding up for one of his infamous rollercoaster lectures. He would spiral my words around so that in the end, they’d bite me in the ass. I twisted my mouth, eyeing him. We’d known each other long enough that he was aware that I knew what he was doing. He’d do it regardless of whether I was in the mood to hear it or not.
“I can live without knowing that bliss.” My snide response assured me a ride aboard his rollercoaster.
“Children get behavioral cues from their parents, but when they are aware of their parents’ faults as adults, they tend to rectify those errors.” He folded his hands together as he always did when bestowing his wizened counsel. “You won’t parent your child like your father parented you.”
It was unreal how the old man always knew what seemed to be at the core of any issue. Sometimes I hated his perceptiveness.
I busied my hands with collecting my tools. “Did you and Nora discuss your future, and how many kids you wanted before getting married?”
“Nora and I grew up in the same neighborhood. Our families went to temple together. In our day, when a couple married, it was expected they would have children and raise them in the faith. Nora and I exchanged our vows knowing what the future held in store for us. Nowadays people have the liberty of more choices without the rigid societal expectations of the past: to marry or not marry, to have children or not, to follow their religious birthright, or to explore other options. While having choices can be good, freedom from expectations can be a harsh, dividing point for today’s young couples.” Abe met my eyes. “From what I know of Claudia, she appears to be a modern young woman, but knowing her family and the type of traditional upbringing she had, I imagine she might be a bit conflicted about modern attitudes.”
“Didn’t seem like that, not before—” I left the sentence unfinished. As close as I felt to Abe, I couldn’t tell him about Claudia’s pregnancy. I wouldn’t let Claudia be less than perfect in his and Nora’s eyes.
“Sometimes you don’t know the answer until your faced with the question,” he said.
I sat on my haunches and ran a hand through my hair. There was no way Claudia could’ve imagined how she’d feel about being pregnant until she was. Could I blame her for not knowing? Or for pulling away from me when she realized it wasn’t going to change how I felt?
“Just proves I can’t give her what she wants. I can’t be who she needs me to be.” Uncomfortable having Abe see exactly how that admission affected me, I looked away. “Now her mother wants me to come over and talk to her, to fix her somehow because she hasn’t gotten out of bed for a few days.”
“Go,” he simply said.
My gaze shot upwards. “Her mother is unbearable. I don’t owe that woman a thing.”
“It’s not for her. It’s for Claudia. Don’t you owe her at least that?”
I did. I owed Claudia at least that and so much more. She’d been my inspiration when I’d felt so beaten, I couldn’t see a point to trying anymore. She’d been the reason I’d gotten myself out of bed and put one foot in front of the other. Could I be that for her?
“Abe, I can’t patch her up when I’m barely holding it together myself.”
“Are you sure that’s not your bruised self-worth talking?”
“You don’t ask the jilted boyfriend to make it all better. Hell, no.” My hammer clanged as I tossed it into toolbox. “They’re barking up the wrong goddamn tree.”
“Mr. Faye, you need to manage your anger.” He admonished me much like Julia used to.
“I’m managing it.” I squeezed my eyes shut and was flooded of images of how forceful I had been with Claudia when she’d come to the house. My rage was only a mask over my battle scars. I took what she offered because I wanted her. I was desperate for her, undone by the way she responded to my touch, but I was angry, so damn angry with her, that I needed an excuse to let myself have her. Darkness mottled in the hurt I refused to acknowledge, making it uglier than ever. It had seeped out, pushed her into bed for a hard fuck. When she pleaded for me to stop, the look of fear in her eyes, how it tore at me. My rage had evaporated, and I remembered it was her skin, her body. It was her that I was touching—the girl who meant everything to me.
I apologized the way I knew best, through my touch, and for a few moments, she let me love her again. When it was over, though, nothing had changed, and the hole she created was larger and more jagged than before. I’d thrown her out like a casual, used-up lay. Her sex-flushed face had crumpled with the sting. Though I wasn’t proud at that moment, it’d felt satisfying to make her hurt for just a minute like I did.
Now, I felt nothing. Only emptiness. Echoing emptiness.
“Claudia ripped my heart out. She changed. Not me. There’s no way I can help her. I’m too angry right now.”
“Mr. Faye, that’s when you most need to forgive. This is more about you than her. Forgiving is the only way the healing can begin.” Abe touched my shoulder, and I stopped. “You once told me a story about a young woman who helped you through an extremely difficult time in your life. What would have happened if this woman backed off in your time of need?”
My neck grew prickly.
“Abe, you can’t expect me to help her—”
“Da,” he spat out in a short, harsh breath. I was instantly annoyed.
“She—”
“Da,” he repeated.
“Abe,” I growled about ready to snap him in half like I’d done with the wood.
“Who owns this problem, right here, between us?”
“You’re baiting me.” I slammed the top of the toolbox closed. “If you were anyone else, I might not be so restrained.”
“Do I look upset?” he asked.
I shot him an annoyed glare. “No.”
“That’s because I am not upset. This is not my problem, but clearly my response is adding to your frustration,” he said. “And though I do not own this problem, I can make a decision to add myself to the equation, ignore it, or help you, my friend, solve it.”
I bent down to pick up my pencil, staring at the floor. “I can’t do it.”
“You don’t need to have all the answers or need to be perfect, but you can do this. And you should. You’re a kind young man, and I know you still care a great deal about that young woman. She needs a kind, supportive friend.” He moved forward, forcing me to look at him. “Stop being resentful, and think about how you can help. God commands us to help a neighbor with his burden. At the end of our lives, we only need to own up to how we served in this world.”
“All right, all right. Enough, Abe.” I put my hand up, hoping he’d shut up. The rollercoaster had crashed, and my head was beginning to hurt. “I’ll think about it,” I said.
But we both already knew I would go.
Chapter 27 • Claudia
I was supposed to be reading an article on healthcare policy, but my brain wouldn’t focus on the words. I gave up and stared out my bedroom window. The outside world had become a blur of dull colors. I heard my parents talking downstairs. My mother had flown in for another three-day visit.
All week, I’d avoided my father’s inquisitive eyes and isolated myself in my bedroom, one question playing an endless loop in my head: How cou
ld I have gotten into bed with Toby? The same responses toppled out in answer: You’re thoughtless, shameless. You have no self-control.
I could not talk for fear the guilt would consume me. No doubt my father, at wits end with my silence, had solicited my mother’s help.
My door creaked open.
“Hey, sweetie. I’m home.” Mom leaned down to kiss my cheek. “How about going out for a bite to eat? My treat.”
Not trusting my voice, I shook my head.
“What’s going on?” She pushed the hair away from my face.
In all the times she’d came to visit me, she’d never seen me cry. I’d been able to hold myself together, but as she looked at me now, it was a struggle to keep the tears at bay. Her fingers touched my forehead as if she were feeling for fever as she used to do when I was little. The gesture made me weepy, and with the tiniest squeak, the tears fell.
“Claudia?” She swiveled my chair around to look at me. “Honey, what’s the matter? Did something happen?”
“No.”
“Yes, it did. Talk to me.”
“I know you mean well, but I’m not a child. I just need some time alone.” I turned away again to stare out the window; I needed to focus on anything but her.
Thank God, she listened.
Through my tears, I watched as the sky turned pinkish-orange with the late sunset and kept watching until it turned dark with night. Finally, I slipped off my clothes and dragged myself to bed.
I’d made a horrible mistake. In scratching an itch, I’d reopened the wound. Toby’s disgust for me felt as heavy as my own. I had tumbled into bed with him, heedless of the aftermath, of the questions that would hang unanswered in the void between us. Dense and heavy, shame anchored me to the mattress.
Tears rolled ceaselessly down my face, puddling in and around my mouth, strangling my airway, and making me cough and sputter in between sobs as I felt myself splitting apart in all different directions.
I cried for me, damning the heavy cloak of armor I hid beneath. I cried for Toby, his wounded heart, one I’d crushed. I cried for us and everything we’d had and lost. I cried for Bella, our baby, a life we’d created in love. A life whose end snuffed out a light inside me, one I couldn’t seem to reignite.
Keeping Claudia (Toby & Claudia Book 2) Page 24